


The Way Our Horizons Meet

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Day 4: Wedding/Honeymoon, GW2017B, Gallavich Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 05:58:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11685504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: For Gallavich Week Day Four: Wedding/Honeymoon-“Why do I have to be the suitor?” he asks for the umpteenth time. Fiona sighs, rubbing her tired eyes.“Because Lip's training to take over the throne and Carl's too young,” she says, monotone, tired of giving the same answer to the same question.





	The Way Our Horizons Meet

**Author's Note:**

> Y'know I don't like wedding/marriage prompts, 'cause as much as I love committed and domestic Gallavich, I personally feel like they wouldn't find the need for marriage necessary. But I found a way to make the prompt work for me.   
> (Don't worry, this isn't as angsty as Wedded Bliss)

Ian scowls out the carriage window, tugging at the uncomfortable collar of his restrictive formal clothing.

“Why do I have to be the suitor?” he asks for the umpteenth time. Fiona sighs, rubbing her tired eyes.

“Because Lip's training to take over the throne and Carl's too young,” she says, monotone, tired of giving the same answer to the same question. “And the princess requested you specifically.”

“What?” Ian sits a bit straighter, looking at Fiona with furrowed brows. “I've never even met the princess.”

“According to Frank, she said you saved her from some bandits in the forest. Called you her knight in shining armour.”

“ _That_ was the Milkovich princess?” Ian remembers the day several months ago. The girl he had rescued was dressed like a commoner and making a decent effort of fighting off the thieves herself, would probably have been fine if she had not been so outnumbered. Ian had merely stepped in to even the field.

“It seems so,” Fiona says, tone dry. Ian knows she doesn't agree with this, has had several screaming arguments with Frank over it, but while Fiona may do most of the royal duties behind closed doors, keeping their kingdom afloat while the king drinks himself into a daily stupor, her word has little standing over his.

“Cheer up, brother. Not like you ever managed to find a girlfriend on your own.”

Ian kicks at Lip's boot, and does not mention that he did not choose to find a maiden, for he did not find them attractive. He sighs and sinks lower in his seat as they get closer to the Milkovich castle.

“I know this is shit,” Fiona says, laying a consoling hand on his knee. “But the Milkoviches are dangerous. They have the best army of all the kingdoms. We need this union. If they were ever to start a war, we need them on our side, or we'll be flattened.”

“I know, I know.” Ian swats her away, tired with excuses, resigned to his fate.

*

“Hello, Prince Ian.” Princess Mandy smiles, a wicked kind of grin that warms Ian to her in spite of himself, and she curtseys. He bows in return, taking her hand briefly in his.

“Princess.” He nods to her. “Ian's fine. I have no need for titles.”

“Then neither shall I. While your siblings discuss with my father, shall we take a walk in the gardens?”

“Sure.”

Mandy links her arm in his as they walk. She's got a wicked sense of humour and a dirty mouth, and Ian finds himself liking her more and more the longer they spend together. By the time they have covered the extensive gardens, he's relaxed and comfortable with her, conversing freely, laughing frequently.

“You'd better come back and see me again soon,” she says. “I don't wish to marry a stranger.”

“I will,” he promises, his smile a little strained at the mention of the union.

*

Ian visits Mandy twice a week. She shows him around the castle, on nice days they eat baked treats in the garden, or walk along the edge of the lake. She's agitated today, he can tell the moment he sees her, face pinched and shoulders tense.

“I need to get out of here for a while,” she says. “You come by horse?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let's ride.”

As they're heading into the stables, a boy comes out. He's rough and a little dirty, and at first Ian almost overlooks him, assuming he's a stable boy. It's only when the light glints off the gold buttons of his jacket that Ian realises he is dressed too well to be a servant. His eyes move from his clothes up to the boy's face, and he is met with the bluest eyes he's ever seen, currently narrowed in a hard stare directly at him.

“Is this your new husband then?” he asks, a sneer in his voice. Mandy flips him off, tugging Ian on towards the stable, but he is too captivated to take his eyes off the boy. “Where are you going?”

“None of your business.”

“Are you riding?”

“Didn't you just come in?”

“He's in a mood, isn't he? If he's in a mood I'd rather go out again.”

“You're not invited.”

“I don't need your invite to ride.”

“Ugh.” Mandy breaks away from Ian to punch the boy hard on the arm. He grabs her by the hair as she knees him in the crotch. He keeps his grip on her hair as he crouches over, and when she shoves him, he pulls her with him.

“Woah, woah.” Ian tries to get between them to break them up, and earns himself a fist in the face.

“Shit, sorry, Ian.” Mandy looks up at him with wide, apologetic eyes, her fist still raised.

“S'okay.” Ian rubs his aching cheek, but manages to flash her a smile. The boy takes advantage of Mandy's distraction to throw her off.

“Ow. You can be so vile, Mickey.”

“Me? You started it.”

Ian wants to offer his hand towards Mickey, but he thinks the better of it, extends it to Mandy instead. After she hauls herself up she beats dirt off her skirt.

“Do whatever you want, then.”

“I intended to,” he says, smiling vicious and feral in victory. Ian's stomach pools with heat.

“Shall we ride then?” he says, attempting to break the tension. The siblings look towards him with the same narrowed eyes before they move towards the stables.

*

Ian's horse is a tall chestnut stallion that he's been riding since his pre-teen years. Mandy and Mickey both have big black horses; Mandy's a mare called Artemis, and Mickey's (Mandy tells him, as Mickey ignores when he asks) a stallion called Atlas.

“Greek mythology,” Mandy explains. “Artemis was the goddess of the hunt, the moon, and nature. Atlas was-”

“A titan,” Ian says, nodding. “He held the sky up.”

“A symbol of endurance,” Mickey says, not looking at him. “He was also the god of astronomy.”

“A fine name.”

Mickey finally glances at him with those cool blue eyes.

“And pray, what is the name of your horse?”

“Since when the fuck do you have manners?” Mandy veers her horse sideways, causing Mickey's to pull up, then stray to the side.

“Alroy,” Ian says, watching them with amusement. “It's Gaelic for red haired. Our family has old Gaelic ties. Not quite as well thought out as yours, but I named him quite young.”

Ian pats Alroy's neck fondly, rubbing his palm over the soft hair of his neck.

“Are you also named Alroy?” Mickey sneers.

“Nay.” Ian grins, unaffected by his brash nature.

“Can't you ride somewhere else, rat?”

“You shouldn't be out without a chaperone. Who knows what he could get up to.”

Ian hides his smirk behind his hand. If only Mickey knew he has far more interest in doing all kinds of things to him, rather than Mandy.

“You are so irritating.” Mandy scowls and circles her horse around to the other side of Ian's, guiding them out of the castle grounds and through the forest. They take the path leading away from the town, and after half an hour, break from the trees to a stretch of hilly meadows.

“Wanna race?” Mandy looks at him with a grin, which Ian returns.

“Sure.”

He doesn't expect Mickey to join in their fun, but the thundering of Atlas' hooves sound on the other side of him as the three of them rise up the first hill. While the Milkovich horses look more muscular, Alroy is a strong sprinter, and Ian reaches the top by a few lengths. He eases up on the speed but lets his horse run on a bit further, loose on the reigns so he can enjoy the run of his own free will.

They stop by a stream and dismount, allowing their horses to drink while they take shade under a tree, all of them hot and sweaty from riding and the heat of the day. Ian steals clandestine glances at Mickey as he stretches out in the grass, gaze following the line of his neck, the sweat damp skin of his throat. He forces himself to look away from fear of being caught, and moves to the edge of the river, popping buttons on his shirt before he splashes himself with cool water.

“Good idea,” Mandy says, and joins him.

Ian splashes himself a few times, water trickling down over his chest and clinging to the strands of his hair. Once he is cooler, he slicks his hair back with the wet and turns to find Mickey watching him with a kind of heated intensity that could be hatred, but could be something else. Their eyes meet briefly and Ian feels like his whole being is on fire, then Mickey looks away, but the flames burn on.

*

“I'm sorry, Prince Ian, but the princess is shopping today. She won't return until later this evening.”

“That's okay. I was just riding past and thought I would check in. I should have sent word ahead, but you'll let her know I stopped by?”

“Of course, sir.”

Ian smiles at the servant, giving them a brief nod before he starts his walk back to the stables.

“Gallagher!”

Ian glances up, delighted to see Mickey, as the hope of seeing the prince once again was the secret motivation of his visit. His smile lights up his face as he closes the distance between them, regarding Mickey warmly.

“Prince Mickey.”

“Mandy's not here.”

“So I've been told. I was just going to retrieve Alroy from the stables.”

Mickey raises his brows, looking Ian over with scrutiny.

“Then your day is free.”

“I suppose it is, yes.”

“I have an errand to run. You'll accompany me,” Mickey says, decisive.

“Okay.”

Ian follows Mickey on horseback out of the grounds, feeling giddy with childlike excitement. He had been hoping just to get another look at Mickey, but to be invited along on business with him, having a reason to pass the day together, is better than he would have hoped.

“Where are we going?”

“To the docks,” Mickey says.

“Town is that way.”

“Not those docks.”

“Surely they would be more accessible. The journey to the others and back is the guts of a day.”

“And you said you were free, so you have no grounds for complaint.”

Ian supposes that's true. For a while they ride in silence, until Mickey speaks again.

“You know, my father is fickle and quick tempered. Your marriage to Mandy will not stop him from attacking your kingdom if he so chooses.”

“Yes, well, I don't exactly have a say in it.”

Mickey looks at him sharply.

“You don't want to marry my sister?”

“Mandy's great,” Ian says, evasive. “I've really enjoyed getting to know her, but I didn't want to get married. I've had no say in this arrangement.”

“Huh. Mandy made it sound like... Never mind. Did you already have a mistress?”

“No.” Ian snorts.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What's so fuckin' funny?”

“Just... I'm, uh. Not really the type of man to have a mistress,” Ian says, trying to hide his amusement.

“Whatever that means.”

“Do you?”

“Not at the moment.”

Ian's heart sinks, though he hadn't expected any different. They ride on for a while in silence.

“What is your errand?”

“Is that any concern of yours?”

“You did ask me to accompany you.”

“To amuse me.”

“So I'm a jester now?”

“Look like one, with that hair.”

“You have a problem with my hair?” Ian tilts his head, frowning. Mickey looks at him for a moment, taking him in, before he gives a brief shake of his head.

“Nay, I have no problem with your hair. Just... Bright, isn't it?”

“And yours is dark. It's merely the colours.”

“I know that. I just- Never mind. Your hair's fine.”

They fall back into silence, riding for a stretch before stopping to let the horses rest and drink for ten minutes, further up the same stream they had stopped by with Mandy. Ian also scoops up water to drink.

“You drink from the stream?”

“Where do you think water comes from?” Ian looks at Mickey with amusement.

“The animals drink from that.”

“And what are we, but advanced animals?” Ian flicks water from his fingertips at Mickey, and he moves away, swatting his hand. “Moving water is safe. I wouldn't advise drinking still water.”

“You some kind of adventurer, too?”

“I liked to camp as a child. I read a lot about nature and survival.” Ian scoops up more water in his hands. “You must be thirsty.”

Mickey eyes him warily, then steps closer. He looks at the water in Ian's hands, up to his face, then back to the water before he leans closer. His plush lips press against the skin of Ian's fingers. He brings a hand beneath Ian's and tilts his up slightly, tipping water into his mouth. When he moves away, a few drops of water trail over his lower lip. Ian watches them, enchanted.

“Tastes different,” Mickey grumbles, licking the water away. “What're you staring at?”

“Nothing.” Ian shakes his head, and looks away.

*

It's late afternoon by the time they reach the town. They stop for a late lunch at a local inn before making their way to the docks. Ian waits with the horses while Mickey goes to run his errand. Ian watches from a distance as he exchanges something with one of the working men, then returns, wrapping what he has retrieved in an old rag. Ian's brows furrow.

“Is that opium?” he hisses, voice lowered.

“Shut up,” Mickey says.

“You came to collect opium? That was your errand?” Ian's eyes widen in surprise, and Mickey elbows him in the ribs.

“I said, shut up. You're drawing attention.”

Ian leads Alroy along after Mickey and Atlas, glancing back at the working men of the dock, with shady, suspicious eyes now. He waits until they're clear of the town before he turns back to Mickey, eyes narrowed.

“You're an opium user? You just thought you would drag me along with you to collect your vice?”

“Shut the fuck up. It's not for me, okay? I was just sent to collect it.”

“For who?”

Mickey looks away, sucking his lower lip, and Ian thinks he is not going to get an answer.

“My father,” he says, finally glancing back.

“The king!”

“Oh, don't look like that. We all know your king is a drunk.”

“Shameful as that is, at least it's legal.”

“Kings make their own rules,” Mickey says, with the kind of flat tone that suggests he's repeating his father's words. Ian shakes his head.

“Whatever.” He slows Alroy and mounts him. “Let's get back before it gets dark.”

*

They do not make it back to the castle before the sun is engulfed by dark clouds. Ian looks at them with a frown. They are close and heavy, looking ready to split with rain any moment.

“Storm on the way,” he says.

“Don't say that,” Mickey says.

“Whether or not I say it won't serve to make it any less true.”

Just as Ian said, the storm descends on them within the next half hour, swift and heavy.

“Fuck,” Mickey says, his hair already sticking to his forehead. “We can't ride in this.”

“Into the trees.” Ian's voice is raised, shouting over the wind. “We'll find shelter.”

They trees provide some cover from the rain, but they're already soaked by the time they get beneath the branches. Ian guides Alroy the best he can through the dark, going slow, taking care to avoid trees. Eventually he's forced to dismount. Soaked as he is, the cold is starting to set in.

“Where are you going?”

“I'm trying to find somewhere dry,” Ian says. It takes some searching, but he finally comes across a cave large enough for the horses to shelter near the entrance. The ceiling slopes lower the further back it goes, but there's still room for them to comfortably sit towards the back, far enough from the entrance that the chill of the wind won't reach them. “We need a fire to dry off. Stay here, I'll go collect wood.”

“What if you get lost?”

“I won't go far.”

“You'd better not leave me here.”

“Mickey.” Ian sighs, pushing his wet hair back from his forehead. “I'll be back soon.”

*

Once Ian has returned and struggled for quite a while, cursing over his sticks, he finally gets a fire started. The light is welcome in the darkness of the cave. Ian sighs tiredly, kneeling beside his small fire as he tries to coax it bigger. He can hear the shallow quiver of Mickey's breathing to his side.

“We're going to have to take our wet clothes off,” he says.

“What, and freeze?”

“More likely to get ill keeping them on.”

Ian's already abandoned his jacket in a wet pile, and now he starts unbuttoning his shirt. He shrugs it off, letting it land with a wet splat. As he rises into a crouch to start on his breeches, he finds Mickey watching him, eyes on his bare skin. Ian pauses, hands at his waistband. Mickey blushes and looks away.

“Are you shy?” It's meant to be teasing, but Ian's voice comes out soft, tentative in the space between them. Mickey's blue eyes meet his, wide, eyebrows raised.

“Fuck you,” he says, and roughly starts pulling at the wet material of his shirt.

“Hey.” Ian sets his hand over Mickey's. “You don't want to tear it. You'll need to wear it again when it's dry.”

He starts to undo the buttons for Mickey, his long, slim fingers making easy work of them. Mickey watches Ian's hands for a moment, then looks up to his eyes again. His lips are slightly parted. His pupils are blown, making his eyes dark. His eyes drop to Ian's lips and Ian swallows. His fingertips accidentally skim over the skin of Mickey's chest as he moves down.

“There,” he says, still soft, barely above a whisper, afraid to shatter the moment between them. He peels the material away from Mickey's shoulders, and Mickey shrugs it off. Their faces are close, little over an inch apart. Mickey tongues at the corner of his mouth. Ian automatically licks his lips, mirroring.

He's not sure who moves first, but their lips come together, soft at first, tentative, but only for a moment. Then they're both pushing forward with hunger. His hands are on Mickey's waist, thumbs tracing the soft skin of his stomach, and Mickey's hands are in his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue presses into Ian's mouth, a thrilling invasion.

They kiss for a long time by the fire, slowly moving hands over each other's upper bodies, exploring. Mickey sighs against his mouth when Ian's fingers brush against his nipple, so he does it again, firmer. This time he gets a soft whimper in response, and, curious, it prompts him to move away from the kiss, trailing his mouth down to lap at the nipple. Mickey's grip tightens in his hair.

“Fuck.”

Ian helps him peel his breeches off, then sheds his own. Their clothes are abandoned by the fire while Ian's hands stroke lines of heat over Mickey's pale, chilled thighs.

“You're freezing,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose against Mickey's jaw.

“So are you.”

“Don't feel cold.” Ian presses a hot, open mouthed kiss to the curve of Mickey's throat, fingers tracing the crease of his thigh. “Feel like there's a fire inside of me.”

“Maybe you're getting a fever.”

Ian snorts in amusement and presses his hard cock against Mickey's thigh, silently showing that it is no fever rising the heat inside of him. He trails his fingers up along the underside of Mickey's cock before taking him in hand, stroking him firmly. Mickey's eyelashes flutter.

“You done this before?” he asks, voice thick. Ian shakes his head. “Seem very sure.”

“I've touched myself before. Just doing what feels good for me.”

“It's working.”

Ian huffs a low, breathless laugh, and kisses Mickey again. Tentatively, Mickey's hand moves down his chest, lingering at his hipbone.

“It's okay,” Ian says, and, taking Mickey's hand in his, guides it to his cock. He exhales long through his nose when Mickey's fingers finally close around him.

“You are hot,” Mickey says, watching Ian's cock as he moves his hand over it. Ian chuckles again, and moves his hand a little faster.

They shift between looking at each other's faces and watching their hands moving on each other's cocks as they strive to get each other off. Mickey is the first to come, thighs shivering, a low grunt, lips pressed shut to muffle any noises. Ian follows not soon after, further encouraged by the sight of Mickey's pleasure.

The ground is uncomfortable but they pay little mind as they lie together by the fire, Mickey cradled in the curve of Ian's elbow, sharing lazy kisses. Mickey traces his fingers over Ian's skin in the pauses between kisses, drawing patterns with his freckles.

“Like constellations,” he says softly. “Stars you carry with you.”

Ian smiles fondly and kisses his temple.

“This is why you don't want to marry Mandy,” Mickey says eventually, not a question.

“Yes.” Ian sighs, pressing his face into Mickey's hair and breathing in the scent of him. “Yes, it is.”

*

They end up spending the night in the cave, curled naked together to share warmth. Ian's stiff when he wakes, and Mickey grumbles about the pains from sleeping on the floor, the chill of the morning now their fire has died, how cold it is, how hungry he is. Ian ends up taking him in his mouth this time just to silence him.

“And if you're so hungry, you can always feed on this,” Ian says when he's done, indicating his own cock. Mickey looks at him with disdain, but, not one to be outdone, returns the favour.

They set out soon after dawn break, parting ways at the edge of the Milkovich grounds.

“Will I see you again?” Ian looks at Mickey earnestly, not wanting to leave him.

“Sure you'll see me around when you're visiting your wife to be,” Mickey sneers, the traces of tenderness from the cave gone, replaced with his usual scorn. He turns and rides away. Ian sighs, watching him go.

*

He does see Mickey again. Most times he calls by the castle now it is with the intention of stealing a few moments with Mickey, and he purposefully tries to do it around Mandy's plans.

“I'm certain I told you I had to go to this awful boring meeting today,” Mandy says, gasping as her maid pulls the strings of her corset even tighter. “Jesus, Jane, I still have to breathe, y'know?”

“Sorry, miss.”

“I'm sorry too, Mandy. I must have got the days mixed up in my head.”

“I wish I could spend the day with you instead,” Mandy says, sighing, then gasping again. “Jane!”

Ian leaves her to get ready, walking slowly as he leaves in the hopes of seeing Mickey.

“Pssst.”

Ian looks round, grinning when he sees Mickey's head poking out through a side door.

“Well, come here quick, then.”

They kiss with the same urgency as before once Ian is in Mickey's chambers. This time they have the comfort of Mickey's bed to fall onto, and Mickey is on his back when Ian takes him in his mouth. He's finished and has Mickey palming at his cock when they hear a creak from the door. Mickey shoves Ian, and he springs back, falling off the bed. He lies still on the far side, covering his mouth with his hand to try and quiet his panicked breathing as the door opens.

“Have you seen Joey?” It's a boy's voice. Ian can see his boots under the bed. He lies very still, rigid with fear.

“No, why the fuck would I know where he's at?” Mickey scowls, and whips a pillow over himself. “I'm trying to get dressed. Get out.”

“Thought you were already up.”

“You thought wrong.”

“Okay, well, if you see him, tell him father's looking for him.”

“Tell him yourself.”

“I can't find him.” The boy sighs and slams the door. Ian sighs in relief, his head falling back. Mickey flops on the bed, looking at him with wild eyes.

“I know you were already up.” Ian is the one to break the silence, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth. Mickey hits him over the head with a pillow.

“You have to go.”

“But you've neglected me.” Ian pouts, giving himself a few strokes to take the edge off. Mickey looks at him hungrily, rubbing his thumb along his lower lip.

“Fine, but be quick.”

And with Mickey's mouth on him, Ian is.

*

They take opportunities where they can, trying to stay out of the castle. Sometimes this is having clandestine meetings in the forest, others it is a quick fumble in the stables, using hands, hidden in the stalls. Several weeks slide by, and the wedding is approaching far too swiftly for Ian's liking. Up until now he hasn't given it much thought, but with it staring him in the face, it now feels inevitable.

Ian's wound up with the stress. He's barely sleeping, barely eating, a restless ball of energy. He's agitated and irritable, quick to start fights, but also overly jovial with their staff. He feels like he's being pulled in two different directions inside. It's disorientating. His behaviour takes a wild edge, risky, reckless.

He shows up at Mickey's door before breakfast.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Mickey hisses, his eyes sliding up and down the corridor.

“I needed to see you,” Ian says, a little breathless, having run the whole way from the stables.

“Ian.”

“Mickey.” Ian looks at him, eyes wide and pleading, and Mickey gives beneath that stare, lets him in.

Mandy finds them tangled naked in the bed, both their cocks held in Ian's fist, rutting against each other as Mickey licks his way into Ian's mouth. She screams, then slams the door behind her as they spring apart, scrambling for the blanket.

“What the fuck?” Her expression goes from shock, to anger, to pain, and Ian's heart breaks. He does like Mandy, with genuine, deep affection, and hates that he has caused her this pain. “Mickey?”

Mickey is silent beneath her stare.

“Ian?” She turns her wide eyes on him, silently pleading. Ian sighs.

“I can explain.”

*

“So you never wanted to marry me?”

Ian shakes his head.

“I'm sorry, Mandy. I really like you as a person, but I just don't like women... like that.”

“And you prefer men, too?” Mandy looks towards Mickey, who is hanging his head. “You know father would have you hanged, drawn and quartered for sodomy if he knew.”

“Don't tell him.” Mickey's head shoots up, eyes wide, a quiver to his panicked voice.

“Of course I won't tell him.” Mandy punches Mickey's shoulder. “You're still my brother, and I still love you, even if you did bed my fiancé. Though I can hardly blame you.”

Mandy sighs, looking across to Ian, who frowns apologetically back at her.

“We need a plan,” she says.

*

_If you're reading this, then I have not married Mandy Milkovich, and King Milkovich is dead. I have also left. I am going to be gone for a while. Please, do not worry for me. I am fine. I just need some time, to explore, both myself and the world. I'll come home to you intact some day. I promise._

_I hope none of you are disappointed in me, and I'm sorry I could not say goodbye. I love you all dearly and I will miss you terribly until I return._

_Love,_

_Ian_

*

In the end, their plan to kill Terry Milkovich is simple They just wait until he smokes and drinks himself into what Mandy refers to as oblivion.

“Nothing wakes him when he mixes liquor and opium,” she says. “The dead would rise sooner.”

“Hopefully not,” Mickey says, grim faced.

It was Ian's idea. He remembers Mickey's collection, and the tales he had heard of opium leading to death.

“At least, this way, it won't look like a murder. Most of the servants know he uses the drug. It will look accidental.”

There is, of course, the risk that it won't work. King Terry has been smoking for years with little visible ill effects, and Mandy fears he may have built a tolerance to it over the years.

“Hopefully injecting it will have a much stronger effect,” Mickey says, holding the needle in a shaking hand.

“And if it doesn't, well.” Mandy looks towards the pair of them with a mixture of sadness and affection. “I won't hold you to any husbandly duties. I can be your cover. I won't get in the way of your affections.”

“Mandy.” Ian touches her face, soft. “You don't deserve to be chained to someone who can't love you the right way.”

She hugs him close, and he presses a kiss to her forehead.

“This is touching, but can we please get on with it,” Mickey says. They nod, then together, the three of them move silently towards Terry's chambers, to make their attempt on the king's life.

*

None of them sleep a wink. They sit together in Mickey's chambers, barely speaking, just silently supporting each other. Pale morning sunlight starts to poke through the window, and they have started to doze, propped against each other, when the scream sounds through the castle.

“This could be it,” Mandy says, jolting awake. “Stay here.”

Ian takes Mickey's hand when she's gone, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“I am sorry to have put your family through this.”

“Rather this, than spend my life not knowing this feeling,” Mickey says, and kisses Ian briefly.

“He's dead.” Mandy appears in the door, flushed, breathless and shocked. “He's finally fucking dead, Mickey. We did it.”

“Keep your voice down,” Mickey hisses, but when Mandy leaps on him, he squeezes her back with the same fierce enthusiasm.

“You have everything ready?” She looks between them when she steps back.

“We do,” Ian says, squeezing her hands between his. “And you. You're sure you'll be okay?”

“Yes. The boys will actually listen to my input, and they won't give a shit about trying to hook me up with some prince. I'll be fine.”

“Thank you, Mandy. Your kindness and forgiveness has been greater than I can offer gratitude for.”

“Hey, we made better friends anyway. I need to go get my dress. Be ready.”

“We could just leave now. Spare you the embarrassment of being jilted.”

“Embarrassment? I look beautiful in that dress, and I may never get another chance to wear it. There's a full banquet ready and more wine than the whole kingdom could drink. I'm gonna dress up pretty and celebrate our newfound freedom. No embarrassment here. So don't worry about me, just worry about keeping yourselves safe.”

Ian smiles, nods, and moves with Mickey to prepare.

*

The majority of both their kingdoms are gathered for the wedding when Ian and Mickey move from the stables, both wearing old, thick, worn material cloaks over their own clothes to make them appear more common. Their saddle bags are laden with food, money and garments.

“Last chance to change your mind,” Ian says.

“My mind is set. We go together, or not at all,” Mickey says. Ian smiles, and together they ride, pushing their horses into a canter, rapidly leaving the kingdom in their wake. No longer princes, just Ian and Mickey, free to find their own happiness together.

 


End file.
